


maybe brokenness is a work of art

by Miisakee



Category: Thunderbirds
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-18
Updated: 2017-12-18
Packaged: 2019-02-13 12:23:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,106
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12984000
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Miisakee/pseuds/Miisakee
Summary: Thunderbird Five is hit by a missile. Gordon reacts.





	maybe brokenness is a work of art

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Framlingem](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Framlingem/gifts).



> I have no idea if this is actually even remotely close to what you wanted, but I hope it is. So here. Have a Yuletude Gift. I really hope you enjoy this, even if it is kind of sad.

The main thing Gordon remembers from the hydrofoil accident is not being able to breathe. He remembers darkness, pain and the terrifying inability to suck air into his lungs. It's the thing that still wakes him up sometimes; sweating, sobbing, desperately dragging in oxygen like he'll never breathe again. Out of all the ways he could die, he is most afraid of suffocating.

And right now, he can't breathe. 

The shattered remains of Thunderbird Five float around him. A piece breaks away and floats into the darkness. 

John's here. John's somewhere here.

Gordon gulps for air, trying his best not to let Alan see his increasing terror. John's here. John's hurt. John, John, John,  _nonononopleaseno_. Another piece breaks off the ruined space station and Gordon closes his eyes. Calm. This isn't helping anyone.

Okay, see this is why he doesn't like space. 

A hand brushes his shoulder - a soft, tentative touch. Gordon glances to the side to see his only younger brother frowning at him.

"You okay?" Alan asks, no small amount of fear in his voice. He's scared for John too, Gordon realises - no, remembers.

He nods, forcing back his fear. He won't do this. Not here. "I'm fine," he forces a smile. "Let's find Johnny."

The two spread out, floating through the ruined station, eyes searching for a sign of their brother's red hair. At least the oxygen hasn't gone out yet. It's only a matter of time, but still. John stands a heck of a lot more chance with oxygen, than without it. 

Ugh. Gordon hates space. So much.

He searches the station. The whole world is utterly silent, at stark contrast to the rushing in his ears.

Despite knowing that it won’t do anyone any good, he can’t help but run back through the events of the day. Trying to figure out what he was doing when his big brother was being hit by a missile.

Whining about Virgil and Scott leaving him behind. That’s what he was doing. John had just disappeared from the lounge and Gordon was complaining to Brains that he never got to go on the cool rescues.

Brains clearly didn’t care.

Then the red alert had gone off – flashing bright and filling Gordon’s soul with ice. EOS was talking over the radio, sounding panicked. Alan had raced in, somehow already all business despite the shock. They’d shot off in Thunderbird Three.

And now they were here. But John isn’t here.

Gordon flinches. No. John will be fine. John isn’t gonna let some missile take him out. No way. He’ll bounce back, just like he always has. He’ll be annoying them with nerdy space facts in no time.

Definitely.

“Gordy!” Alan’s voice comes to life in Gordon’s ear – all terror and panic. “I found him. Gordy, I…please, I can’t…”

“I’m coming,” Gordon shoots off, waving his arms around to propel himself forward. “Tell me where.”

“I…we’re in the kitchen…I…” Alan’s voice breaks and so does Gordon’s heart. He never wants to hear Alan’s voice like that again.

Dang it. John’s supposed to be safe. He’s up here, in Thunderbird Five, far away from the rescues. Far away from danger. It’s the one thing that Gordon can hold to his heart to comfort himself, the nights when it gets too hard. When he wakes up shaking and all he can see is Alan’s bright blue eyes dead and empty, Virgil’s body broken and shattered, all he can hear is Scott screaming in his ear.

He can suck in air and shake and know - innately - that at least one brother is safe. That John is safe.

But he isn’t. He’s here and he’s in danger which means that he’s always been in danger and nobody even realised and there’s nothing Gordon can do to protect his starry-eyed big brother up here so far away from home.

He's going to be sick.

Gulping in a breath of air, Gordon propels himself around the corner to see Alan floating next to a body. Red hair sways around the head.

John.

Gordon freezes.

That’s John. That’s his big brother, floating in the air ~~lifelessly~~ like they’re in zero-gravity, which of course they are, so that’s definitely not weird. At all.

Gordon moves forward a couple of millimetres and freezes again.

He can’t do this. He can’t. He doesn’t want to be the big brother here, he wants to be the little brother, the one that the older ones take care of and hug and protect. He feels like he did when he was five and Dad told them that Mom wasn’t coming back from the hospital. Like he did when he was fourteen and the doctors told him that he was never going to walk again. Like he did when he was seventeen and Dad’s tracker went out.

He feels like he just wants to curl up in a ball and hide and cry because it’s not fair. It’s not fair.

But he can’t. Because Alan’s big eyes are staring at him and he’s the big brother here. He can’t do what he wants to do. He has to be strong.

He pushes himself forward and stares at John. “Is he…?”

“He’s alive,” Alan jumps in, his voice trembling. Now that Gordon’s closer, he can see that Alan’s put the oxygen mask over John’s face. Probably smart, the oxygen in the station could give out any second. “He’s burned all over, I don’t know…his back could be injured…”

“You brought the anti-gravity backboard, right?” Gordon stays as calm as he knows how to. He channels his inner Scott and keeps his emotions hidden. There’ll be time for them later.

“Yeah,” Alan’s eyes widen. “It’s in Thunderbird Three,” Alan says the name of his ‘bird with such little enthusiasm that Gordon almost flinches. “I’ll go get it.”

His little brother pushes away, heading back to his ‘bird. Gordon glances back at John.

What he can see of his brother’s face is pale, clammy, burned in several places. “You’ve lost an eyebrow there, Johnny,” he comments, reaching out and brushing his gloved fingers through his brother’s red hair. “No beauty contests for you.”

His brother – somewhat predictably – doesn’t answer back.

Gordon sighs and glances around. The station is still gradually falling to pieces, but they’ll be out before it gets really dangerous to be in.

It’s so quiet. Everything outside of his helmet is utterly silent and it’s sending spiders up Gordon’s back. “I really hate space,” he mutters under his breath. Give him an ocean with some pretty fish in it any day. At least that wasn’t like this. Quiet. Empty.

“I got it!” Alan’s back and a little more confident. Gordon moves away and they carefully roll John onto the backboard, strapping him in.

John flinches a little as they move him and it should be good, because it means that John’s at least somewhat aware, but it just makes Gordon want to punch something. Ideally the face of the guy who did this, but he’s not picky. He’d punch a wall. He’d punch that lady who kept printing lies about IR. He’d punch that guy who kept messing up and needing to be rescued.

Heck, he’d even go for that annoyingly smug duck he’d met in Central Park if it was available.

Ugh.

Alan finishes strapping John in and Gordon follows as they hurry from the station. As they move, more pieces float away and Gordon sends them a brief glance, before looking back to his brothers.

Thunderbird Three comes into view and Alan hurries the stretcher through the airlock. Gordon follows, but pauses in the airlock.

He turns and gives a last look around Thunderbird Five’s remains, before brushing his fingers over the metal airlock. “Thank you, for protecting him,” he breathes, before he hurries into the ship.

The door locks behind him and he pulls off his helmet, hurrying to where Alan is bending over John. “I’ll take care of him,” he says. “You fly us home.”

Alan nods and hurries away. A few minutes later, Gordon feels the rumbling as Thunderbird Three detaches from the doomed station and rotates, before heading on a steady course back to Earth.

Gordon finishes wiring John up and drops into a chair next to him. “I hate this,” he mutters.

John – surprisingly – doesn’t answer.

“I just…ugh. You were supposed to be safe,” Gordon pressed his palms into his eyes. He went silent for a moment. “…Moron.”

 

***

 

It’s a long journey back to Earth, at least that’s what it feels like to Gordon. So long. But the second they arrive, everything speeds up. Brains is there and Gordon’s suddenly not there, he’s in the lounge, and Virgil is rushing past him, looking freakily calm and Scott is talking loudly and Gordon just collapses on the sofa.

Alan comes up and curls next to him and Gordon hugs the one brother he can touch close to his chest and they wait.

And they wait.

Finally, Brains and Virgil come out of the infirmary. Virgil drops onto the sofa and rubs his hand over his face. Brains stays standing.

"How is he?" Scott asks. It's what Gordon wanted to ask, but for some reason his mouth doesn't seem to be working which sucks. 

"He's g-going to be j-just fine," Brains says, adjusting his glasses. "The m-most serious injuries were the b-burns and they were easily t-treated."

"So he's okay?" Alan whispers.

"Not okay," Virgil is the one who speaks this time, but he doesn't look at anyone. "But...as okay as he can be, all things considered." He waved his hand in the air. "You can see him if you want. He should be waking up soon."

Gordon doesn't wait for him to say anything else, just jumps to his feet and runs out of the room. He arrives at the infirmary door without even noticing and stares at it, before summoning every bit of Scott-courage in him to push the door open.

Inside, lying in bed, is John. 

He's not awake yet, Gordon notes, as he drops down next to him.

But that doesn't last. As Gordon watches, John groans and shifts in bed. His green eyes open and Gordon leans forward. 

"Johnny?" the word comes out more tentative than Gordon meant it to.

John groans again. "Gordon?" he asks, sounding confused. "I...what happened?"

"Someone shot your 'bird," Gordon says, then regrets it. That was a bit too blunt. 

"What?" John's eyes go wide. "My 'bird? They...what?"

Gordon holds up his hands. "Whoa there, space guy. Stay calm. Someone managed to hit Thunderbird Five with a missile. We...just managed to get you out." He deliberately doesn't mention the absolute terror, but he's pretty sure John gets it anyway.

John closes his eyes, a ripple of pain running across his face. Gordon gets it. If someone hurt Thunderbird Four, he'd...

"What about EOS?" John's eyes open again, his voice terrified. He tries to sit up. "Gordon, did they get EOS...?"

"No! She's fine. She managed to get into the island computers before the missile hit," Gordon leans forward and tries to press his brother down. "Johnny, please. She's fine. I promise."

John sinks back in the bed. "She's fine?" he asks weakly.

"Just peachy. And annoying Brains, I'm pretty sure."

John laughs at that - a weak, jerky sound, but still a laugh. A laugh Gordon thought he might not get to hear again. 

That shatters any sense of humour immediately and Gordon drops in his chair, planting his face on the bed. 

"Gordo?" John's worried voice comes from above him. "What's wrong?"

"You almost died," Gordon's voice sounds so empty that he startles himself. Still, it's pretty accurate to how he's feeling right now. "You almost died and...it's not fair."

"Gordon..." Arms come around his shoulders and pull him in to a tight hug. Gordon ignores the brother-instinct saying that John's burned all over, he's probably hurting himself doing this, and sinks into the embrace.

"I thought you were gonna die. And I had to be strong for Al, but you were gonna  _die_ ," Gordon isn't even sure what he's saying anymore, but John's fingers are running through his hair and it's really nice. 

Gordon allows himself a moment to imagine a world without John Tracy and the thought finally forces the sobs he's been holding back for so long out into the open. He's not even talking anymore, just sobbing and John's holding him tightly and finally, finally Gordon doesn't have to be the big brother. And it feels damn good to finally just let go.


End file.
